


Turns Out Being A Dad Is Tough but Damnit I Guess We've Gotta Try! [ABANDONED FIC]

by wodaro



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: But mostly Trencil or Jimothan POV, Family Problems, Flower Kid is nonbinary (They/Them), Gen, Parsley and Trevor are both trans, Sad Dads™️, Switches POV between Trencil Nat Jimothan and Parsley depending on the chapter, Toxic Masculinity, but also cute family and friendship stuff it's not gonna be very sad, discussions of anxiety and depression, immortality is weird, mentions of alcohol/drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wodaro/pseuds/wodaro
Summary: Since getting back from the Habitat, the Varnnia household has been doing better. Trencil is enjoying his gardening, Nat is going back to school, and the two of them have fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine. Unfortunately, it turns out that one short trip to a health resort (that wasn't even a health resort in the first place) doesn't fix all your problems.
Relationships: Jimothan Botch & Parsley Botch, Nat Vancey & Trencil Varnnia, Trencil Varnnia & Jimothan Botch, Trevor Garbo & Nat Vancey
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	1. Daffodils and Zinnias

Trencil sets the pot of daffodils down on the edge of the step, placing it as a perfect mirror to the identical pot on the other side. How beautiful, a symbol of his and his family's new beginnings. He takes a step back to admire his work. Their house was falling into disarray even before him and Nat visited the Habitat, but now that they were back Trencil was working hard to keep it all in top condition.

The squeak of a braking vehicle comes from behind him, and he turns to see Nat getting off the school bus, backpack slung over one shoulder. His heart swells with pride. Before they went to the Habitat, Nat would skip almost all her classes, or get in trouble for talking back to authority, but lately she's been doing so well. Her teachers had even contacted him to ask what had happened! He wished he knew himself, for much of their time at the Habitat his daughter had practically refused to speak with him. Their relationship was better now, but he knew the young girl wasn't comfortable being emotionally vulnerable with him. Which he supposes is normal for any thirteen year old.

"Why, hello sweetheart." Trencil says with a smile. "How was your educational journey today?"

"It was fine." Nat says, phone in hand as she texts someone, glancing up at him briefly as she walks past toward the door.

"There's fresh soup on the stove if you're feeling at all peckish darling!" Trencil follows and calls after her.

"Okay, uh. Thanks Dad." Nat answers and gives a quick thumbs up as she climbs the stairs to her room, eyes on her phone as she taps away. A couple seconds later Trencil hears her door shut. 

He stands in the entryway for a moment wondering if he should check on her, but then remembers his overbearing nature had been a large part of their problems in the first place. Besides, he reminds himself, as a young teenage girl she needs privacy. She did not seem to be in poor spirits, simply... distracted. That's normal for a child. That's what should be expected. He knows this. 

Humming to himself to try and cheer up, he takes off his shoes and places his large sunhat on its designated hook. The Varnnia household is a modest abode, but Trencil has a passion for decoration which turns the house into something anyone would be envious of. The entryway's walls are painted a deep green, and a fresh vase of flowers by the shoe rack always greets whoever enters. Various paintings of landscapes and still lifes adorn the walls throughout the home, and Trencil makes sure not to penny pinch when it came to drapery. Of course, many of the decorations look a lot fancier than they actually are. Trencil has a knack for sprucing things up, which he has always been thankful for as a man with expensive taste but little money. 

He makes his way to the kitchen, pouring the lentil soup he made earlier into containers to store for leftovers. He takes a beautiful little ceramic bowl he got from a yard sale once out of the cupboard and fills it for Nat, placing a plate over the top to keep the heat in. Still feeling restless, he decides he may as well clean the whole kitchen. He has dishes to do after all, a little extra wouldn't hurt. This was one of his go-to activities for alleviating anxiety. Cleaning gives him control over his environment, which comforts him. This is also why he loves gardening. He can predict plants, he knows what they need and what they can do, how to help them. It feels good to have something under control in his life. He starts wiping down cupboards and organizing shelves of tea. Unfortunately there isn't much he can make cleaner than it already was. After an hour of mindless puttering he simply finds himself anxious, alone in a house aside from a daughter he's certain wants nothing to do with him.

Maybe he should give Jimothan a call.

Since getting back from the Habitat both Trencil and Nat began seeing therapists. Trencil had only gone to the Habitat due to his daughter's interest, but it ended up giving him a chance for introspection that he hadn't had for a long time. Before he went to the Habitat he was not exactly... doing well. The break from routine allowed him to finally see ways to deal with that. He sometimes wonders if when Nat brought it up, she partially did it for him. Half of him hopes she was really thinking of him that much, and the other half of him is mortified by the implication that he could worry his own daughter so deeply. She shouldn't have to take care of him. One thing Trencil's therapist has suggested to him is that he should try to interact with people more, that he isolates himself too much. So a couple weeks back he decided to call up Mr. Botch. He imagined they would have some common ground as they were both fathers who had their children with them in the Habitat, and they've both had difficulty with parenthood. It has actually been quite nice, getting to talk with someone else about all this. And the therapy was helpful too, of course. Being an ageless being, mental health is not always easy to keep at the forefront of one's mind. It's difficult to learn how to cope with an experience so few can claim. Still, he has to admit therapy as well as the phone calls have aided him greatly in keeping his footing this past month. Apparently you can always learn new things about yourself.

He prepares some tea and then heads to the sitting room, relaxing on a small vintage couch surrounded by potted ferns. Through the window (which has a large overhang to keep the sun out of the room) he can see into the garden, which he admires for a moment from the new angle. He sets his tea down onto a coaster and brings the landline handset to his face as he dials the number. Three rings later a gruff and somewhat irritated voice answers the phone.

"Hello?" The curt greeting startles Trencil. He immediately feels apologetic, he must be intruding. 

"Ah, greetings Jimothan. I do hope I'm not interrupting something?"

The voice gets softer, to Trencil's relief. "Oh, Trencil. Sorry 'bout that. In a bit of a mood today that's all." He coughs as though to clear his throat. "Of course I've got time for ya, I mean hey, my shift's not for another hour."

Trencil looks at the clock above his mantle. 4:34pm.

"Yes, I presume not many people go to bars before 6."

"You'd be surprised actually."

Trencil thinks of some particular people at the Habitat and hums knowingly. "Would you be amenable to discussing your "mood"? Or shall I distract you with my own woes instead?"

"Ah well, it's nothin' big. Just another spat with Parsley."

"I see, yes" Trencil's brow furrows with sympathy. He knows what that's like.

"I just don't know what that boy wants. Before in the Habitat he said he missed me, and I missed 'im too! We hadn't seen each other almost 5 years before that, 'sides from holidays and birthday phone calls... and the last few days before we left that place all was good. He'd laugh and drink and sing karaoke with that Jerafina. Called me cool, told me he loved me..."

"Mmhm" Trencil says, listening thoughtfuly.

"But, turns out unless one or both of us is drunk, we can't talk for more than five minutes without startin' a fight." Jimothan sighs.

"I'm sorry to hear that. To be fair to him, it's scarcely been over a month. I imagine it will take time. It seems he is at least making the effort to converse with you, and that is better than before, yes?."

A longer sigh through the receiver. "Yep yep, I know. Just wish it could be simpler."

Trencil looks out his window to the garden, a bird catching his eye, but it flies by too quickly for him to tell the breed.

"It never is, unfortunately." Trencil states flatly as he stares at a group of drooping zinnia flowers. "I can warn from far too much experience that ignoring complicated things in favor of simplicity will always end in disaster, my dear Jimothan."

"I know, I know. I'm nearly sixty, I've lived long enough to learn that much."

A grin starts on Trencil's face. "Oh, sixty you say? Well, pardon me for trying to impart any sort of wisdom towards someone so learned." Trencil teases.

Jim huffs out a laugh, bringing relief to Trencil. "Well then old-timer, care to tell me how things are going in your neck o' the woods?"

"Ah, nothing so dramatic I'm afraid." Trencil starts. "Just a lonesome old man despairing over the distance between him and his child, as per usual." Trencil laughs airily to mask the true hurt of the sentence. "I know it comes with the territory of raising a teenager, but alas, combined with everything else in my life it is quite challenging. She used to be the anchor for me to hold onto in this ocean of life. Now that she, understandably, cannot be that anchor any longer, oh, I find myself floating adrift."

"Yep, that's parenting." Jim deadpans.

Trencil lets out a lengthy sigh. "I'm thinking of getting a job. My mental state has been improving lately, but, ah, I find myself restless. Too much time with my own thoughts." He pauses. "And... I fear I have not been a proper role model for my child. I need to be stronger for her."

"Good for you." Jimothan says enthusiastically. "Ain't no better feeling than bein' able to provide for your own family."

"Indeed." Trencil smiles, heartened by Jimothan's response. "I was thinking of working for the shop which the flower youth delivers for, as an arranger of bouquets. The child mentioned to me recently that demands from the shop have increased, and ergo shall be looking for new employees."

"Well good luck with that, it sounds right up your alley. I'm happy for you. It's healthy to have somethin' to get you outta your own house now and then."

"I do garden." Trencil responds defensively.

"Outta your own yard then." Jimothan teases. Trencil could hear his grin and couldn't help but smile in response.

He feigns a sigh of irritation, thought if they had been talking in person his own smile would betray him. "Yes, I suppose."

"Heh. Good luck buddy, that'll be great for ya."

"Thank you, Jimothan. And best of luck with Parsley."

"Anytime, Varnnia. I should probably get some other stuff sorted before I head off to work, but thanks for the call."

"It's always a pleasure, Mr. Botch."

Trencil hangs up and leans back into the couch, closing his eyes and listening to the wind outside. He remembers doing this a lot before they went to the Habitat, and before he got Nat. Just... sitting alone in his house. Sitting with his thoughts. It's something he does to relax himself, but lately whenever he sits in silence he's always met with an aching sense of loneliness. As he listens he hears his daughter come down the stairs briefly before returning to her room. Her door shuts closed once more. Trencil stretches out his arm and gets up to put his teacup in the sink. When he enters the kitchen he notices that the bowl of soup he prepared earlier had been taken off the counter. He smiles contentedly to himself as he decides to get ready for a trip to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daffodil: New beginnings, rebirth.  
Zinnia: An absent friend, thoughtfulness.
> 
> This is my first ever fanfiction so comments are very appreciated!


	2. Etiquette and Guilt

Trencil closes his parasol as he enters the flower shop. He had been here many times prior to his stay in the Habitat, but since getting back he's made an effort to stop by about once a week to check up on the flower child. The poor thing went through such trial, and Trencil is ashamed that he didn't recognized the signs of danger to the youth that now in hindsight were oh so apparent to him. A chime rings and the door closes behind him. 

He is greeted by a charming little shop. Large windows let streams of light through, which reflects brightly on the more shiny garden decorations and knick-knacks. Shelves of seeds and gardening supplies line the walls, and many different plants sit on tables and stands alongside beautifully crafted bouquets. It's a small storefront, but a lot of the shop's money actually comes from taking custom orders.

The man at the counter nods in greeting and behind him a small face peeks out of the back room. It breaks into a smile as Flower Kid excitedly skips over to him. Trencil is relieved that the smile is full-toothed like he remembers it. After the big event when it was cleared of teeth he had felt so guilty. Even if he was not the one to do the deed, he wanted to apologize every time he saw it. As an adult and a father he should have stood up for the young child. Thankfully Habit has since started to make amends, and covered the cost of the kid's dental work. 

"Hello dear flower-whisperer, I hope you are doing well?" Flower Kid nods, then tilts their head as though to ask a question. 

"I suppose you're curious for the reason I chose to grace you with my presence today?" They nod again. "Well, I happen to be searching for a job." He takes a resume from his bag. "I do hope you haven't already found new help? Though if you have it would be no issue." 

Flower Kid's mouth goes into an O shape as they take the resume from his hands and bring it to their parent, hoping excitedly. The man laughs at the bouncing child and takes the resume as he looks up at Trencil "What position were you hoping for?"

"Flower arranging primarily, though I would be happy tending to the plants." He pauses, "Delivery may be difficult for me, due to my aversion to the sun. Ah, my apologies, all of this is discussed in my cover letter."

"Well, I know you're very passionate about gardening, and I'm excited to have your application." The man smiles kindly as he places the resume somewhere behind the desk. "I'll look it over along with the others. You should get a call by the end of the week." He nods professionally.

Trencil bows his head politely, "I very much appreciate it. I do hope you have a wonderful rest of your day." He signs "goodbye" to the flower child before leaving. He hasn't learned much sign language since meeting them, but he knows this at least. The kid signs back and waves happily as he leaves the store. Trencil can't help but chuckle with fondness as he opens his parasol back up. He's glad it's not too windy today, as that makes it difficult to walk around with any sort of parasol or umbrella. It isn't as though the sun will kill him, but it gives him a terrible rash with very little exposure. He's hoping that he will be primarily working in the back room if he gets the job. The storefront is beautiful but too brightly lit for his delicate complexion. Still, he can't think of a place he would be happier to work.

_Finally, I'm making a good choice_, he thinks as he walks down the street. He'll be a functioning adult again. No more wallowing in his abode, no more distancing himself from civilization. No more drowning in unnecessary feelings and denying himself pleasure. He must take his life into his own hands, if not for him, then for his daughter. 

While pondering over his life's possibilities, his eyes are drawn to a man on the other side of the street, facing away from him. Though the figure's not wearing his standard blue business suit, his hair is the same recognizable style as always. Trencil calls out a greeting as he approaches. 

"Good day Parsley! Lovely weather isn't it?" Parsley jumps at his voice and sharply turns around.

"O-Oh! Sorry Trencil I was uh... thinking and didn't expect you to walk up refried me. I mean, behind me." He laughs nervously. 

"It's no problem at all! Alas, I'm quite used to people being frightened by my ghastly figure." He grins, showing his fangs.

Parsley chuckles a bit more comfortably "Well, once I know you're here you're not that scary. I know that you don't eat blood. And I know that you know I'll have to sue you if you try."

"I also know that you eat construction supplies, and wood covered with oil paints, so perhaps it is I who should be frightened!" Trencil retorts.

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it, buddy."

"I refuse. Vampires may not get sick but they do have standards. Regardless, how are you faring? I myself am returning from the flower child's shop. They seem to be in good spirits as always."

Parsley shifts his footing nervously, but his expression is clearly one of irritation. "I'm doing okay. Just heading back home after visiting my Dad."

Trencil raises his eyebrows "A little father-son bonding! My, how darling." At that Parsley lets out an irritated groan. Trencil smiles politely. Perhaps the teasing was inappropriate. "And how has he been since leaving the Habitat? Are you two not getting along anymore?" He's never heard Parsley's version of events, so he was curious to hear it from the young man. This is the first time they've ever had the chance to talk one-on-one.

Parsley freezes at first like he doesn't want to answer, but relents. "He's been... fine. We're getting along better." He makes a displeased expression. "I guess? But damn if he isn't just so, So pushy. Like he thinks maybe if we have one good conversation about football or whatever it'll erase everything that's ever been wrong between us." 

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Trencil waits patiently.

"I appreciate that he's trying to patch things up or whatever? But he still doesn't really know me very well. Like, he doesn't know that this is the EXACT type of thing that pushed us apart. He just does. Not. Listen. GOD."

This does sound familiar, from what Trencil has heard. He doesn't know Parsley very well but from conversations with his father it seems Jimothan is overprotective in his own way, but with a harsher tone than Trencil. He had tried to bring it up during one of their phone calls but Jim either misunderstood what he was referring to or is extremely blind to his son's emotions.

"I'm saddened to hear that. Your father means well, but he may be quite unskilled when communicating his feelings."

Parsley is avoiding eye contact now. He waves his hand dismissively. "No no it's nothing you need to feel bad for. Sorry for uh- venting like that, ha."

"It's truly no trouble at all. Family can be tough, I'm aware." He lightly pats the man's shoulder with his hand for reassurance, before returning it to the shelter of his cape. "Please, If you ever need an ear to bend, you know the location of my residence. Don't hesitate to call, or even drop in unannounced! You see, only the vampires need invitations."

Parsley nods "Heh, thanks." He shifts his balance again and grimaces as his stomach grumbles loudly. He hugs his arms around his stomach, looking for a moment like he might double over. "Ugh. Sorry to cut this short but I gotta go get something to eat before I settle for a street sign or something. And that would be... illegal." Parsley glares at the newly replaced stop sign across the street. "Have a good day Mr. Varnnia." 

He politely waves before turning and continuing down the street. 

"You as well."

While walking back, a vibration starts in Trencil's pocket and he takes out his phone. 

🌱💕🌸🦇Little Blossom🦇🌸💕🌱: "hey dad. i'm going over to trevors"

Trencil couldn't help but frown. He really did not like that boy. He was incredibly rude, always asking insulting questions about his vampirism. But him and Nat seemed to have been getting along better in the past month, and it was nice to see her actually spend time with friends.

"Okay darling. Please be back by 8."

Wait, was 8 too early? Too late? He really did not want her to stay out too late. It was a weekday... But would she resent him if he didn't give her enough freedom? He was about to text a "Is that okay with you?" But his phone vibrated again.

"K. btw thx for the soup"

Trencil doesn't always understand a lot of the text speech Nat uses, but what he does understand makes him very happy.

"Of course, I love you sweetie."  
"🦇"

"you want me 2 say it back dont you! well fine"  
"love you dad. but let me stay out later next time"  
"🦇"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love is stored in the Bat


	3. Werewolves and Vampires

To: Wolf Loser

N: "ok i can come over"

T: "AWESOME!!!!! I AM so so So SO EXCITED TO WATCH THIS MOVIE!!! The werewolves in it look so INTIMIDATING and COOL!!!!!!"

N: "fine but if its as boring as the last one u owe me 2 sodas tomorrow."

T: "BOO!!! ur taste in movies SUCKS NAT!"

N: "maybe i wont come over then"

T: "..."

N: "😐"

T: "...🥺"  
T: "...we have snacks?"

N: "O dam well guess i have no choice"

T: ">:-3c"  
T: "SEE YOU SOOOOON!!!!"

N: "👍"

Nat looks at the clock on her phone. 5pm. It's a good thing Trevor lives so close or they wouldn't even have time to watch the movie. God, 8pm curfew? Really? What is she, an infant? Did her dad expect her asleep before 10 too? Ugh.

She had wanted to argue but her dad has seemed so... fragile lately. She kinda feels bad for him. Which goes to show how pathetic he is, having a 13 year old girl feel sorry for him.

She sits up from her bed, swinging her legs over the side so she can start gathering her stuff. Nat's room is a bit of a mess, and she has to step over piles of clothes and books in order to get to her backpack. She throws her charger and keys in the bag and heads out the door. After locking the house she bikes over to Trevor's, which only takes about five minutes. It's a cool evening, with the sky just starting to change shades of blue in preparation for a sunset still hours away. Trevor's house is kind of run down, with the grass overgrown and paint chipping everywhere on the building. A ratty rocking chair sits on the front porch. Through the window Nat can see Trevor in the living room waiting for her. His face breaks into a goofy grin when he sees her, and he waves with both arms before trying to run toward the door, but ends up tripping while jumping off of the couch. Nat sees him fall out of sight followed by a small shout of surprise. Pfft, what a loser. She knocks at the door and waits until the shuffling behind it stops. Suddenly, it flies open!

"BEWARE YOUNG VAMPIRE, FOR I KNOW YOUR RULES!!! YOU CANNOT ENTER WITHOUT AN INVITATION!!! HOW WILL YOU GAIN MY TRUST, FOUL BEAST?"

Standing in front of her is Trevor, with a faux glare and doing some sort of goofy action pose. He has a plastic sword in one hand and is waving it in a way that Nat assumes she's supposed to find intimidating. Ha, like she'd be scared of him.

Nat smiles as menacingly as she can (which is pretty menacing), baring her fangs as she runs through the door, pushing Trevor to the side. "Those rules don't apply to me, egghead!!" She laughs as she pulls the sword out of his hands and pretends to stab him in the armpit.

"No... such STRENGTH!!!! HOW ARE YOU SO POWERFUL, UNHOLY CREATURE!!" Trevor makes pained groaning noises and falls to the floor with a look of utter defeat on his face, dramatically dropping his hand to his side as he closes his eyes.

"Well for one I don't act like an eight year old."

Trevor opens one eye and sticks out his tongue at her before breaking into a gigantic smile.

"Ready for ATTACK OF THE EVIL ELECTRIC WEREWOLVES?"

"Oh jeez. Is that actually the name of the movie?"

"Uh, YES? Because it's COOL?" Trevor attempts a glare at her as though she's an idiot for thinking anything otherwise, but soon the smile overtakes him again. He jumps to his feet and starts shaking his hands around with excitement before rushing into the living room. Nat follows.

"Now, as you know, I am the premiere expert on werewolves." Trevor leans toward Nat with a serious expression, as though he's telling a dark secret.

"Mmhmm" Nat replies, amused.

"I don't believe this movie holds any truth behind it... HOWEVER! " he shouts, "I heard through a forum I frequent that the DIRECTOR may have been a WITCH TRYING TO SPREAD ANTI-WEREWOLF PROPAGANDA!! And this I CANNOT ALLOW!!" At this last declaration he raises his hands up and looks at the ceiling, as though cursing this witchy director.

"Gotta protect your people?" Nat asks sarcastically.

"Naturally!" Trevor responds with a grin. He always has the biggest smiles when they talk about werewolves or other monster conspiracies. And even though they're always ridiculously farfetched, Nat can't help but have fun going along with it. When they first met Nat thought he was kind of annoying and tried to ignore his chatter, but what can she say, Trevor is persistent. And it's nice to have a friend, even if he is a kind of a weird guy.

"Soo... snacks?" Nat asks as she sits down on the couch. Trevor's couch is so much more comfortable than the one at home. She's pretty sure her dad buys furniture based more off aesthetic than comfort, but this couch is worn and soft and covered in pillows and blankets.

Trevor makes a surprised expression like he had forgotten about snacks, bolts toward the kitchen, and returns just as quickly with chips, chocolate milk, and plastic cups.

"A meal fit for royalty!" He hops onto the couch, causing the throw blanket that was on the back of it to slip down behind Nat. He sets the goods in front of them on the coffee table. "Or for cryptids!"

"Do werewolves or vampires even count as cryptids?" Nat asks as she lifts the blanket around her shoulders and props her legs onto the coffee table.

"That is actually an incredibly interesting debate, which we will DEFINITELY have later! But for NOW!!" He proclaims, "Be prepared to witness the majesty of my lycanthropic brethren!!!!!!" He dramatically arcs his arm before hitting the play button on the remote.

"I thought you said this was anti-werewolf propaganda?"

"SHHHH!!" Trevor leans forward, his legs bouncing with excitement. Dramatic spooky music starts coming from the TV, accompanied by a wolf's howl. His eyes are fully affixed to the screen.

Nat couldn't help but giggle at that, and wraps herself tighter in the throw blanket, preparing to settle in and watch a hilariously bad film with her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing these kids so much. Expect more of them!!!


	4. Masculinity and Misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major CWs but be aware this chapter contains very uninformed ideas of transgender identities, gender, and masculinity.

"FINE THEN. IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO JUDGE ME, AND LECTURE AT ME, THEN I'M LEAVING!"

"PARSLEY! I'M NOT LECTURING GOD DAMNIT!"

*SLAM.* The door shuts hard as Parsley storms out of his father's apartment.

"PARSLEY!" No answer, and he hears footsteps stomping down the hall. The young man presumably wasn't going to wait for an apology.

"Ugh.." Jimothan sits back down at the kitchen table and glances tiredly at the untouched food (or, to anyone not a member of the Botch household, packing peanuts, tissue paper, and scraps of curtain in a vaguely burrito form. Covered in ketchup.) Why does this always happen? He just wants to catch up on the time they missed. To mess around and shoot the breeze like the old days, before Parsley started cutting off contact.

He had just commented on the length Parsley's hair was getting to, and that he thinks it would look better cut in a more masculine style. Jim doesn't know how that counts as LECTURING, but everything in the conversation went downhill from there.

Despite their fighting, Jim feels incredibly thankful to have gotten a chance to reconnect with Parsley. Finally being let back into his son's life was a weight off his shoulders. But apparently he's got no idea how to interact with his child anymore. Parsley is just so sensitive to every little thing he says, apparently nothing that comes out of Jim's mouth is what he wants to hear.

As Jim is brooding to himself, the phone starts ringing. Ugh, if that's another telemarketer he's gonna cut the damn phone cord. He picks it up.

"Hello?" He says in a voice that he hoped conveyed 'I don't want any of your crap.'

"Ah, greetings Jimothan. I do hope I'm not interrupting something?"

He relaxes. He knows that voice. "Oh, Trencil. Sorry 'bout that. In a bit of a mood today that's all." He coughs, a nervous tick. "Of course I've got time for ya, I mean hey, my shift's not for another hour."

And so they chat, and Jim begins to vent more than he planned about his frustration with Parsley. That tends to happen in their conversations, though he always keeps himself from saying TOO much. He just feels comfortable talking to Trencil about this. He's someone who knows the difficulties of parenthood, even if their situations are very different. It also helps that he's always a great guy to chat with.

Jimothan thinks Trencil is interesting. When they first met he thought the gardener was just some sadsack, but to his surprise since they've started talking more, he's discovered he really respects the guy. Flowers and elegance were never his style (as far as he cares, the only real use for a flower is to give it to a pretty woman) but the gardener doesn't seem to mind this. He was surprised when the man first called him, but it's been nice to have someone to talk to that didn't seem to mind his blathering.

As nice as it is, Jim forces himself to stop the conversation short. He doesn't want to bother the guy too much with his problems. So he says his goodbyes.

"It's always a pleasure, Mr. Botch." Trencil's words come through before he hangs up. Jimothan appreciates the sentiment, even if he's sure it can't be true. He's pretty confident the guy just takes pity on him, what with all his complaining. Honestly, maybe he should try getting Trencil to talk with Parsley. Couldn't be worse than his own attempts so far.

Jim let out a sigh. PARSLEY.

When Parsley first came out to him as trans, Jimothan embraced it fully and was so happy for him. He was so excited to have a son, and he loves his boy with his whole heart. He just doesn't understand why they can't make it work when he tries to show it and initiate some good old fashioned father-son bonding time. Doesn't he want Jim to treat him like his son? But Parsley always ends up getting mad and claims that he's judging him! Of course he isn't! The kid doesn't seem to understand that Jimothan wants to be there for him. Wasn't he being clear enough?

Jimothan starts eating the food on the table. He's not going to let a perfectly good meal go to waste. He chomps down sharply, irritated to all hell.

Why can't that boy just understand that he's trying to PROTECT him? If Jimothan knows anything, he knows this world is harsh. His son may have survived so far but who knew when something bad could happen? Living as a man he should learn to talk right, act right, avoid being a target... Jim had rough experiences in the past because he didn't know the right way to be, to live without getting hurt, and he didn't have the extra barrier of being transgender. He was scared for his boy. Yeah, it wasn't fun to have to change yourself for others, but life wasn't supposed to be fun. If he had tried to complain to his own father about any of that crap he would just say "life isn't fair so suck it up", and he would be right. And HE wouldn't try to talk back to his father.

Hmph. May as well eat the other plate too if Parsley isn't coming back.

At least work will distract him. He's sure Jerafina will be there, as always. Maybe he can ask her for advice? Her and Parsley seemed to hit it off, so she might have some tips. But... lowering himself to taking parenting advice from a perpetually drunk woman, over 20 years younger than him, with no kids... he hasn't fallen that far.

No, he can get through to the boy on his own. He doesn't need help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: He Might Need Some Help


	5. Work and Play

Parsley picks up his vibrating phone. It's his dad again. Jeez.

He puts his phone back on his desk and waits for it to stop. He doesn't have the energy right now.

He's organizing files for a case. Nothing huge. Some poor sap was out late, drunk at night, and stole a bike. The next day he felt bad and tried to return it, but apparently he shouldn't have bothered 'cause the guy he stole it from decided to sue anyway. Trivial stuff like this is the worst part of his job. All the victim has to do is forgive the guy and take the bike back. This wasn't worth his time. But... it's his job, so he guesses it actually is if he wants to get payed.

Ugh. Where are all the exciting murder cases? Or like, conspiracies between big corporations and the government? He's never, EVER been bribed by a multimillionaire CEO with blackmail on him the whole ten years he's been a lawyer and honestly? He thinks that's the true crime here.

Parsley likes thinking of these kinds of dramatic situations. Being honest if somebody tried to blackmail him he definitely wouldn't find it exciting at all, but it's like walking down the street and thinking about what you would do if a purse snatcher ran by you. It's fun to imagine being the hero. Or at least a character in a larger story.

His phone vibrates again. God. He waits for it to stop again, and then opens it up.

To: Dad

P: Is it an emergency?

A few seconds pass. Then a response.

J: No. Are you angry with me? I want to apologize.

P: I'm at work. Please don't call unless it's an emergency.

J: Can we talk later?

Parsley doesn't feel like answering that right now, so he puts his phone aside again. His dad needs to chill for like, two seconds. He's been so clingy this past month, and considering that before the Habitat they'd barely talked more than a collective ten hours over the past five years, it's pretty irritating. His dad is almost definitely afraid of that happening again, but damn if he isn't a master of self-sabotage. Sure, at the Habitat they made up, but after that Parsley spent most of his time completely sloshed. He knows that in that state NOTHING can bother him. Just remembering all the bathroom karaoke he did at the lounge gives him anxiety. And he's pretty sure he brought up his ex-husband to Flower Kid? That just makes him feel pathetic. As does the drinking.

He's never had a problem with drinking before, but he supposes there were some other bad influences at the Habitat with him. Thankfully he didn't continue at that pace when he got back into a normal life routine. Imagine if he had left a health resort as a brand new alcoholic? Wouldn't that be ironic.

Actually, now that he thinks of it, it might not've been that surprising. He's pretty sure that place wasn't much help with anything, really.

Whatever. Okay. Focus on your work, idiot.

The next three hours are spent filing papers, writing reports, and making phone calls. Parsley's office is pretty standard. A desk, filing cabinet, some fake plants, y'know, the usual dull corporate stuff. Beige walls that make you feel like your soul is dying of boredom. Of course he DOES have a mini-fridge in the corner, as he considers 24 hour access to food to be a necessity. He feels especially strong about that after having gone 3 days without eating when he was at the Habitat. He pulls some cheese out of it to eat as he tries to finish up his work. When it's finally time to clock out he feels exhausted. He's looking forward to going home to chill, have a bath, and read a nice book.

When Parsley gets home his roommate Kamal has just finishing making dinner. It smells really, really good. Parsley has a mission.

He walks up next to the smaller man and slumps his upper body onto the counter, looking up at Kamal with a despondent expression. "Kamal... I'm so freaking tired can I please have some food."

His roommate doesn't even look at him, and continues washing the dishes dirtied by the cooking. "No Parsley. I told you before, if I'm gonna make you food y'gotta pay me. N' you being tired has nothing to do with food. Take a nap."

"Kamal....." Parsley looks up at him, pleading.

Kamal glares at him.

"Kamal please, you're my best friend. You wouldn't let me starve to death..."

His roommate groans with an irritation Parsley knows is being played up. "Fine. Only one bowl though, I've learned better than to say help yourself. And you owe me five dollars."

He is victorious.

"You're an angel... Thanks so much!" Parsley lifts himself off the counter joyously and gives Kamal a wink, as he goes to prepare himself a bowl of curry. Kamal blushes like the cute bastard he is. Wait a second, is he wearing makeup? Oh my gosh, wait.

"Are you seeing Boris later?" Parsley asks accusingly.

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Kamal's mouth says, but his face and body language say _"Oh God oh God he's figured it out code red!!! Code Red!! Oh God!!!!!"_

"Okay buddy, sure. I mean... If seven foot tall green monster men with claws are your thing, just own it dude. No judgement here." Kamal's face goes further red. He's so fun to tease.

"Don't test your luck, curry thief. I know where you sleep."

Parsley feigns ignorance "Me, a thief? Heh, I think you're confused... You know I'm a proud man of the law." He takes a five dollar bill out of his wallet and passes it over to Kamal, who takes it with an indignant look on his face.

"Consider it my contribution to your date tonight. Have fun."

He leaves the room quickly after that, so that Kamal doesn't have time to throw a kitchen knife at him.

He escapes into his own neat and tidy quarters, sitting down at his desk, moving aside paperwork and wolfing down the curry like he hasn't eaten in weeks. It's so much easier to think on a full stomach, he can feel himself waking up with each bite.

Then he remembers the text from his dad. Ugh, he's not quite awake enough for that. He leans back in his chair. He could tell his Dad to forget the fight and that he forgives him, but honestly that won't change anything. He's insufferable. It reminds him of the messed up thing bigots say about LGBT people, where they're annoyed when they 'won't stop talking about how gay they are.' Except in this case it's his dad who won't stop talking at his son about his son being a trans man. Not even in a cool way, more in a 'time for the cis person to teach you how to be trans correctly' way. He hasn't even come out as gay to him. He got married and DIVORCED and his dad doesn't even know it. Because he doesn't want to go through all this crap of his dad trying to dissect and control his identity, over and over and over again.

Damn. He's just gonna go take a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Gay Roommate Simulator 2019.


	6. Bickering and Diplomacy

"Congrats on the job, dad. Now maybe you can finally get out of the house."

Despite the sarcasm, Nat's comment makes Trencil very happy. He had just received the news himself, and shared it with his daughter immediately. The two of them are relaxing in the sitting room, drinking hot chocolate despite the fairly warm weather.

"Ha! Yes, that will be very nice. Perhaps we should have some sort of celebratory event for the occasion, hm? Ice cream, a movie, does anything strike your fancy?"

Nat seems displeased at his offers. This worries Trencil. Had he said something wrong?

"Uh, sure I guess. Whatever works for you?" His heart sinks. Oh dear. She doesn't want to.

"It can be any number of things, my little blossom. What if I took you shopping? We could get you a new dress, new, ah, video games? What was that one you used to like so much? Something like MineMake? Is there another MineMake game I could get you?"

"Dad it's MINECRAFT. And I haven't liked minecraft since I was like, SEVEN or something, god."

Trencil sighs. "Natalie, please do not take that tone with me."

Nat just glares at him silently.

"Young lady, I am trying to offer you a gift. If you do not desire it, then fine. But there's no need to be impolite!"

"I'm not being 'impolite.'" She uses air quotes to mock her father's word choice. "I'm just informing you."

"Don't be smart with me."

"FINE then I'll just be dumb I guess."

Nat is staring him down. Trencil is incredibly confused. What happened? Why is she being so insolent? Has he done something wrong?

He sighs again. Okay, Natalie. Let's-"

"It's Nat."

Trencil's jaw clenches in irritation but he quickly relaxes it.

"Nat. Let's just start the conversation again. Is there anything you would like, or anywhere you would like to go?"

Nat seems like she's weighing the options between being a further disobedient daughter, or getting free things. She ultimately decides on the latter.

"A music concert. You know Tiff Webber? From the Habitat? She's actually pretty cool. And she's having a concert next week. Everyone in class is like, super wild about her music. But when I told them I knew her they totally didn't believe me."

She grins. "BUT, if I can ask her to let me on stage, I can prove all those nobodies wrong."

Okay well, not the noblest of intentions, but a concert did sound like a wonderful father-daughter activity.

Trencil thinks. "Hm, well you may want to ask Tiff about that in advance. I'm sure I can get her number if you like." Then he remembers who he's talking to. "But please ask nicely, and PLEASE accept if the answer is no. It would not be fair to push that on her, and we don't want to cause trouble, do we?"

"Well, I know YOU don't."

"Yes, that's correct. So therefore I ask that you don't either. On this condition, yes. I would love to take you to her concert."

Nat pumps her fist. "Yesss! Thanks Dad!" She finishes off the rest of her hot chocolate and slams the cup down before looking at him with that mischievous grin. She stands up. "I've gotta go tell Trevor about this, he's gonna be so jealous! Heheh. Nobody believes that he knows Tiff either. Give me the number as soon as you get it!"

She then books it up to her room, presumably to gloat at Trevor. Trencil is beginning to think he should feel bad for the poor boy. Oh dear, his daughter wasn't a bully was she? He would have to keep a close eye on her. Trencil looks out his window as he thinks. When he gets Tiff's number he'll have to speak with her before Nat to explain the situation, and maybe he can ask if Trevor can go on stage as well.

Goodness gracious. For now he'll just think about this as he gardens. He still has progress to make. Trencil picks up the now empty hot chocolate cups and puts them in the dishwasher. He notices that he left his gardening gloves on the counter, and grabs them before walking to the back porch to get his gardening hat and heads out to work in the soil. While working with the plants he gets lost in thought and makes a fair amount of progress, removing weeds and re-potting plants. He's incredibly pleased when he finds that the Tooth Lilies he planted earlier have started sprouting. Those would be lovely in a bouquet for Mr. Habit.

Thinking of Habit makes Trencil think of the Habitat, and then Tiff. How to get her number... Should he check for some sort of contact information on the internet? He's not very good with computers.

Oh, wait! Tiff spent a large amount of her time in the lounge at the Habitat, didn't she? In that case, maybe Jimothan would know something. He hadn't chatted with the man in nearly a week either, so it would be nice to catch up and give him the news about his new job. Yes, that's a lovely idea.

Trencil stands up to go make the call, but suddenly realizes it's completely dark out. Oh dear, he had lost track of time. It's far too easy for him to space out like that. He doesn't want to be rude and call so late, so he'll have to talk to Jimothan tomorrow.

He puts his equipment away and goes inside, washing his hands and turning off all the lights. Just before he shuts off the final one, he's startled by the ringing of the telephone. At this hour? He hopes it's nothing serious. He goes to pick it up.

"Hello. Varnnia residence, Trencil speaking. May I ask who's calling?"

There's a lot of background noise coming through the receiver, people talking, and music. When a voice responds it sounds a bit uneasy.

"Heyyy buddy. It's, uh, Jim. Was wonderin' if you could come over sometime? I... *sigh* need some advice. S'about Parsley."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna post the next chapter later today!


	7. Tea and Discussion

Jimothan wakes up Sunday morning with a headache. Ugh, he drank too much last night. His shift had been an early one, and then he stuck around with the patrons. He didn't feel like coming home to an empty house. He scolds himself. He's too old to be doing crap like that. He looks over at the clock. 12:34pm.

Something jogs in his brain.

Is he forgetting something? He didn't have plans, did he?

Wait.

He remembers making a phone call last night.

Oh shoot.

Trencil is coming over at 1.

He shoots up in his bed, and his head immediately starts spinning. Augh, slower movements, slower movements. He stands up and tries to ignore the popping sound of his knees stretching out. Making his way over to the dresser, he opens it up and picks something a little nicer than normal. He doesn't want to look like a hungover deadbeat. A nice collared shirt, maybe? God, the living room is a mess, isn't it. Jimothan curses his drunk self from 13 hours ago. Inviting a friend over for the first time, at 1pm the day after a night out! What had he been thinking?

Well, nothing. Clearly.

He puts on his clothes and rushes out to his small living room. There is clutter EVERYWHERE. Shoot. He gets to work moving all the mess to his bedroom, where it'll be out of the view of guests. A stack of books, some unwashed dishes, random papers, all relocated. That'll have to do for now. Now to the kitchen for something to eat. What did he say to Trencil again? He needed to talk about Parsley? What was he supposed to talk about? He grumbles to himself as he eats some bread out of a bag on the counter and takes some headache medicine. The kitchen is a mess too, the counter piled with take-out containers and the sink full of more dirty dishes. Maybe he should consider hiring a cleaner. Oh god, there wasn't a smell, was there?

Suddenly he hears a knock at the door. Did he also tell Trencil the code to the building last night? What the hell? He does a quick once over at his apartment. It isn't the cleanest, but the living room actually looks pretty damn good. He realizes with a start that he forgot about the bathroom, and hopes that maybe vampires don't have to use the toilet.

Opening the door to the hallway he sees Trencil holding a closed parasol in one hand and a small bag in the other. He's wearing a smart white button up with a bat themed bolo tie, green slacks, and dark green dress shoes. Jimothan is glad he opted to wear nicer clothes than his usual Sunday lounge wear.

"Hello, dear Jimothan. May I come in?"

Jim realizes that he's staring and coughs. He must be tired. "Yeah. Yeah come on in. Sorry it's a bit messy. We can sit in here." He leads Trencil to the living room. Jimothan's decoration sense is best described as "functional". His living room is decorated with a brown leather couch and matching chair, an old wooden coffee table and end table, both covered with stains from mugs and cups, and a ratty red rug. The walls are adorned with family photos, and framed movie posters from old black and white films which Jim thinks look pretty classy.

"It's no issue whatsoever." Trencil assures him. "Also, I'm unaware whether or not if you're partial to teas, as I am, but I thought I would bring some to share." He hands the small bag over to Jim. "I brought a delectable lavender earl grey, if you'd like some."

Jimothan is not at all a tea person. But he doesn't want to turn down Trencil's gift.

"Oh, thank you." He takes the bag. "Well. Uh. Did you want to drink it while we chat?"

"Why, that would be lovely." Trencil smiles. "Would you like any assistance?"

Jimothan remembers the state of his kitchen.

"Nah, don't worry yourself over that. Just make yourself comfortable and I'll be back in a jiffy."

"Of course, take your time."

Jimothan goes into the kitchen and lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He did NOT want to have this conversation right now. He looks at the tea. Wait. What the hell, why was it just loose leaves? Isn't tea supposed to come in little bags? It does kind of look like coffee grinds. Maybe it's meant to go into a coffee machine? That's pretty interesting, he supposes.

Working his way around the trash on the counter, he goes about making the tea the same way he would his morning coffee. God he could really go for a coffee. He settles for eating a few beans out of the coffee bag in the cupboard while the tea is brewing. The search for clean mugs comes up empty, so he picks two to quickly wash. One has a simple floral design on it, which he thinks would suit Trencil quite well. For himself he just cleans his favourite red one, a years old gift from Parsley that's so large it could almost be considered more of a bowl with a handle than a mug. Once the coffee machine beeps he pours it out and brings the drinks out in the mugs. Trencil sits patiently on the couch, looking at the pictures on the walls.

"There we go, tea for two." He hands Trencil his cup. As he takes it Jim notices the man's nails are painted a dark green. He sure likes that colour. It suits him, Jim thinks. The tea is still too hot to drink so Jim sets it down on the coffee table and settles on the opposite side of the couch.

"Thank you." Trencil says, delicately placing his mug to the side. "Now." He shifts to fully face toward Jim, giving him his undivided attention. His hands are folded in his lap. "You seemed quite distraught when you called last night. Has something happened with your dear Parsley?" There was real concern on his face. Jimothan instantly felt like a fool.

"Oh, well.." He's going to sound like some idiot. "I'm real sorry 'bout that." To act like this, at 58 damn years old. "I was, eh, drunk. It's just that problems with him have been on my mind and... I guess 'cause you're a father too I called you. But... I really don't mean to trouble you. I've gotta apologize if I worried you." Jim's brow furrows up as he examines Trencil's face. The man was still staring at him thoughtfully, as though what he just said wasn't completely embarrassing and pathetic.

Trencil tilts his head, his expression looking as though he's trying to figure out a puzzle. "Your conscience seems to weigh quite heavy... Though I assure you it's no trouble at all, Jimothan." Trencil places his hand on Jimothan's arm in a comforting gesture. "I shall always make time to assist a friend in need, especially one who is also a father."

Jimothan shifts uncomfortably and Trencil quickly removes his hand. Jim appreciates the sentiment, but he doesn't want to worry the man. He just made an impulsive decision while drunk. Still, Trencil is already here, and it might be worse for him to waste the man's time. So maybe he should just... go for it. There's no way he can make himself look more pathetic at this point.

He sighs, leaning back into the sofa. "Well. Parsley hasn't been picking up his phone or answering my texts ever since that spat I told y'about." Trencil nods. Jimothan backtracks. "Well I mean, he's answered some texts but only to say he's busy and can't chat."

"Perhaps he's simply occupied with work? Lawyering is quite the demanding career."

Jim hates the twisted feeling in his gut right now. "No, yeah, I'm sure that's what it is. You're right, m' overreacting." He makes himself chuckle in the hopes of letting Trencil know this was just a big misunderstanding.

"Now hold on a moment, Jim. That's not what I said." Trencil says in a firm tone. "Whether it's indeed an overreaction or not, it's clearly an issue for you. If you're willing, talking through your woes is often a great comfort." Trencil smiles, and looks at Jim in a cheerful way he is certain he does not deserve. "You have been oh so helpful for me and my worries, so I would be perfectly happy to assist you. Ah, I can also reccommend you a wonderful therapist if that is more suitable. She's aided me a great deal."

Jimothan was going to say no, he didn't need to talk, there was no real issue, but instead what came out of his mouth was, "I don't need a damn therapist."

Trencil nods again, and his expression changes ever so slightly in a way that makes Jim feel like the worst guy on the planet.

"I mean, I ain't comfy with that. Uh. But I can talk with you 'bout it."

"Of course, I'm always happy to listen."

Jimothan huffs out a breath, half exhaustion and half anxiety. This must be easy for Trencil to say, he's always so dang eloquent. When the gardener vented to him it felt like he was doing some composed monologue from a novel, all his thoughts neatly laid out. Jim couldn't do that.

But God, it feels like at this point he has to try.

"I... don't understand my son." He starts. Trencil looks at him softly and Jimothan glances over at his mug of tea. "We just fight. I don't know how to stop it from happenin'. And... I know I'm gonna lose him again... and he's all I got. I can't- can't lose that." Trencil hums sympathetically.

There's a short silence, and then Trencil speaks up. "What do you fight about?" He's asked this question to Jim before, and he almost always gives the same response.

"I don't even know." He wishes he did.

"That's alright. What happened during your last fight?"

Jimothan sighs, and lifts his head toward the ceiling, trying to remember. "Well, we were chatting, and then I mentioned something 'bout his hair of all things. Then the boy got all uppity, saying I was judgin' him."

"What did you say about his hair?" Trencil asks in a confused tone.

"Well, you've seen it! I told him to get it cut." He says as though it was obvious. He looks up at Trencil, who now has a slightly cross look on his face. "What?" Jim asks.

"Well, I can most certainly see why he would find that offensive." Trencil then gestures to his own long hair.

"Well that's different." Jimothan retorts.

"...How so?"

Jimothan then realizes. Oh. Trencil doesn't know. Of course.

"Parsley's trans." He says, as though that explains everything. "So I'm worried about him."

That does get rid of the confused look on Trencil's face, but it is replaced with a look of disbelief, aimed toward Jim.

"And may I ask what in the hell that has to do with him having long hair?" His tone is still civil, but accusatory. It throws Jimothan off.

"Well, y'know!" He blurts out while gesturing at the air, as though that will explain everything. He can feel his face heating up. "If he's gonna be a guy-"

"My dear Jimothan, you are making absolutely no sense." Trencil interrupts, the flowery wording undercut with a passive aggressive tone. "Do you see me before you? I am a homosexual florist with long hair and painted nails, and you have not ever given me even a single look of disapproval."

"Wait, you're gay?"

Trencil gives him an unimpressed look. Right, not the time.

"Well that's different! You're, y'know..." Jimothan gestures again and Trencil raises his eyebrows. "And not my kid! And a thousand damn years old. I know whatever you've been doing to get by is working." Jimothan's face is fully red.

"You're allowed to say cisgender, Jimothan." He sighs, bringing his hand to his temple in an action of frustration. "Regardless, you are being incredibly rude. To imply that my or your son's appearance or mannerisms are a weakness. How disgraceful." He looks incredibly insulted and Jimothan feels pathetic for an entirely different reason than before. "Parsley is thirty five. He doesn't need you to tell him how to protect himself. He has been doing fine on his own."

Jimothan feels like a jerk. This is just like his fights with Parsley. Though hearing it from his friend rather than his son... hits a lot harder. And now he feels like maybe he wasn't actually listening to his son either.

He doesn't know what to say. He just stares at Trencil. The man's expression softens.

"Ah, I'm sorry to be so curt when you asked me for help. But my advice in this situation would be to address your own biases." He takes a sip of his tea and makes a displeased expression before setting the mug back down on the table.

"How... how should I apologize to him?" Jimothan asks. Every cell in his body is focusing on not blurting out some rushed defense and angering Trencil more. He can't afford to dig himself into a deeper hole than he already has. Not with Trencil.

"Well... you have to be sincere and intentional." Trencil offers. "If this is a recurring event, then you're possibly not really listening. You need to apologize, and acknowledge that Parsley is his own man." He pauses, and looks at Jim. "Perhaps you should also read some gender theory? I have some books you could borrow if you'd like. There may also be audio versions." At Jim's incredulous look the man cracks a smile. "You see, it's just that your theories of masculinity seem incredibly old-fashioned. Normally I'm a fan of old-fashioned things, but some really do need to be left in the past, trust me, I would know! Corsets for example, beautiful garments but absolute hell on your body, I was so relieved when those fell out of style." He laughs at his own joke, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"Heh." Jimothan offers a small chuckle.

Trencil shifts to a more casual position, leaning forward so his elbows are resting on his thighs. "Oh, you are a good man, Jimothan. I know you mean well. But being good does not always make you right. If you care for your child, you must listen to him." The look Trencil gives him has a weight to it now that Jim isn't sure how to read.

Jimothan just nods. He doesn't want to say anything and mess this up. Trencil is being far too generous. So instead he takes a sip of his drink. Yep, definitely not a tea fan. He doesn't want to offend Trencil though, and so he gulps the whole thing down before setting the mug back on the table. When he looks at Trencil the man's eyebrows are raised again.

"What now?"

"Well, it seems I also need to teach you how to brew tea."

"What? Did I do it wrong?"

At that, Trencil snorts so hard he has to cover his face. Jim can't help but grin, even with no idea how he messed it up.

"My dear Jimothan." He says, clearly trying his hardest not to laugh. "It seems you have a lot to learn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jimothan: Master drink mixer, accomplished bartender.
> 
> Jimothan when he sees tea leaves: What the hell is this, mold? Weed? I don't trust it.


	8. Beginnings and Resolves

Trencil passes Nat her lunchbox. "There you are. Best of luck at school today."

She takes the lunch and sets it in her bag, zipping it up before slinging it one-armed onto her back. "Thanks. I would wish you luck but you don't need it, you're like, the master of flowers."

"Ha, thank you for the praise, my little blossom." He bends down and gives his daughter a quick kiss on the forehead.

"EW! Gross, dad!" Nat protests as she waves him away. Trencil chuckles.

"Now run along, and have a good day at school. I love you!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. See you later." She flashes him a peace sign and heads out the front door to wait for the bus, but then turns around quickly to yell out a "Good luck!" before continuing down the driveway.

Trencil watches her get onto the bus then turns back into his house. Humming a little tune he finishes gathering his things, his mind drifting to the previous day. After the somewhat dramatic beginning to his and Jimothan's tea, they had settled into a more casual conversation. Trencil got to tell him about his new job, and Jim gave him a hearty congratulations. Trencil also asked about getting in contact with Tiff, and although the man didn't have her information, he thought Jerafina might, and offered up her number. 

Spending time with Jimothan in person had been quite pleasant. Trencil hopes that he might visit the flower shop sometime, he would love to be able to share more of his passion for horticulture with his friend. Maybe even make him special blends when he learns his taste in tea. He catches himself snickering thinking about Jimothan's attempt at brewing tea. Then quiet laughter breaks through when he remembers the look of shock on Jimothan's face when he realized Trencil was gay. He can't believe it wasn't obvious, but he supposes straight people really do have an abysmal sense for such things. It's hard not to feel sorry for them. He stifles his laughter after a moment. Today he is determined to avoid distraction.

It's the first day of his new job... he feels ridiculous being so nervous for this. Though he knows it's not as ridiculous as it seems. It has been about three years since he last worked. Not out of choice, he hadn't been well. 

Depression and anxiety have always been far too real struggles in his life, and in the past three years they've hit him quite sharply. In the states he fell into it was work enough just to get out of bed in the morning... He feels guilty just thinking of it, and knowing that only a couple months have passed since he left that state. 

His mind always makes certain he is aware of his failings as a father. He feels he's barely able to take care of Natalie. At his worst he isn't even able to garden or clean, which only makes him feel more overwhelmed. He's kept his mind busy focusing on house and yardwork since getting back, and the idea of getting a job. Therapy has helped, but once things settle into a normal routine... well...

Trencil notices he's picking at his skin. He stills his hands.

He must admit, he's frightened by this new situation. He truly is a pitiful man.

After gathering all his things, Trencil takes a deep breath, in... and out. He has been doing better, and can handle this. He steps out of his house, popping a piece of bubblegum into his mouth for the road. He's wearing his favourite gardening outfit with his green cape, and it's a fantastically overcast day so he doesn't have to bother with a parasol. He decides to distract himself with the view. What a rare treat, to fully see the sky unblocked! Even though it's covered in clouds, he spends his walk taking in the vastness of it. Despite being immortal, the majesty of nature could never grow old.

He gets to the Blooming Lily Flower Shop right on time at 9:30am, thirty minutes before opening. When he goes inside Flower Kid greets him with a big wave and a signed "Hello!"

Trencil signs a greeting back and the child gives him a smile. He hopes to learn more sign language soon. Maybe there's a class he can take for it.

The florist walks out of the back room carrying a box which he passes to his child, who dutifully takes it to one of the wall shelves and begins unstocking. He turns toward Trencil. "Hey there Mr. Varnnia, ready for your first day?"

Trencil takes a professional posture. "Yes, sir."

The florist laughs kindly. "No need to be so formal, we may have pretty flowers but it ain't a fancy place. Call me Bud. Here, I'll show you the ropes."

And so Trencil spends the first couple hours of the work day getting a tour of the shop, from the front room, to the cash, to the storage area and order arranging room, and finally the nursery. It's quite a small place. Much of their stock they bring in from local gardeners and farms, and few things are actually grown here.

Trencil finds the cash register difficult to get the hang of, but Bud promises to help him with it for the first couple weeks on the job. The storage area is filled with supplies and storage for bouquets and arrangements, two large tables, and various tools and equipment for use around the shop. It's a messy room, but with a sense of unconventional order and bright passion. Several already prepared bouquets and arrangements ready for delivery sit on one of the tables. The other seems to carry odds and ends that were used in their preparation. The nursery is for raising plants that are sold as sprouts, meant for ease of care for beginner gardeners. Trencil is absolutely smitten with all of the newly sprouting and budding plants. He realizes he will have to be cautious lest he take on too large a bounty of plants for his house while working here. He may have to start giving plants as gifts quite often.

Once the tour is done, he spends the rest of the day shadowing Bud to learn about placing orders, taking stock, and arranging deliveries. Trencil takes note of how much work it is to run this place. No wonder they were looking for extra help. He has only truly worked as a gardener before this, and that requires an entirely different sum of knowledge.

The day passes by quickly with all the new tasks. Thirty minutes before closing while Trencil is covering the front cash for Bud, a familiar person walks through the door, who has to duck through the doorway due to his height. The voice is just as enthusiastic as Trencil remembers it.

"Oh :D!! Trencil!!!!!"

It has been a few weeks since he last saw Boris. He seems to be doing well, though it's hard for Trencil to tell. He's quite the lively character. Trencil smiles politely at the doctor, whose large clawed hands have come together as though he might start clapping from excitement.

"Ah, hello Dr. Habit. What a pleasant surprise." Trencil says, though he supposes it isn't much of a surprise. Habit was well known to like flowers, he had even given all of the habititians apology bouquets after the Habitat closed down. Trencil had been quite impressed by his use of floriography, as he also has a soft spot for that particular lost art.

"I didn't know you worked he-re!!" Boris giggled. "Yes! What a habpy surprise~!"

The flower kid emerges from the back room, clearly having heard the voice of the doctor. They light up and sign enthusiastically at the doctor, and Boris responds. After signing back and forth for a bit, he laughs at something the kid says.

"How has life been treating you, doctor?" Trencil asks him.

"Ahh.." The man's smile fades a bit. And he puts his hand to his cheek in thought. "Well... it is tough! After everything... But you have all been so generous in forgiving me. And I have been doing better. Kamal is especially helpful!! He is visiting almost Every Day to make sure I am O-K!!!" Now Boris' smile has returned in full. "I want to give him 'a' bouquet to say Thamnks!! So I'm here to pick up the one I ordered last week!" The flower kid nods happily and goes into the back room.

After they leave, Trencil turns to the doctor and speaks in a reserved tone. "Yes, I'm relieved that you are attempting to make amends. In such a case that even the child can forgive you, then who am I to hold a grudge?"

"Mm." Boris shifts nervously at that, averting his eyes toward a shelf of vegetable seeds. "I am sorry. And very grateful to have the forgiveness of both of you. I promise I am trying." Boris looks back at him now, sincerely.

Trencil is glad to see him serious for once, but he still doesn't feel bad for his comment. If the flower kid had remained upset Trencil is positive he would never have forgiven the man. In the current circumstances he's willing to give Boris the benefit of the doubt, but it does surprise him how quickly everyone seems to have forgotten his attempted (and accomplished) deeds. Perhaps it's harder in his case, to forgive a man who could have seriously hurt his child had he not been stopped. Though he does genuinely seem to be trying, and Trencil is very relieved to see that.

After an awkward pause Flower Kid returns with the bouquet, and despite his mood Trencil can't help but be taken by how heartfelt the arrangement is. Yellow and peach coloured roses and white hibiscus, with accents of sweet woodruff and chamomile. Trencil had barely talked to Kamal at the Habitat, but he could tell from these flowers alone that he must be very dear to Boris. From the few whispers he had heard among the habititions it seemed the two had a complicated history, but had recently started rekindling their friendship.

Flower Kid carefully hands the bouquet to Boris, and starts signing something at him. Trencil doesn't know what they're saying, but suddenly Habit looks like he's about to start crying. Trencil is alarmed but then Boris breaks into a giggle and brings the child into a hug.

"Thank you so much!! I know he will love it!"

Boris looks up at him again and Trencil can't help but smile. "You are very lucky to have Kamal, I know he cares for you. I'm positive he'll adore such a thoughtful arrangement."

"Спасибо Trencil!!! ;u;" Boris' face is lit up.

Flower Kid helps Trencil ring the order up, and they say goodbye to the doctor. Trencil hopes things do go well for the poor man.

The remainder of the work day is quite calm, and Trencil decides to purchase a gift for Jimothan. Then while he's looking he gets one for Parsley as well. He figures something simple would suit Jim, so he gets him a snake plant, as it's hardy and not too flashy, and good for the air indoors. He doesn't know Parsley very well, but figures for someone so work-focused some lucky bamboo would be a nice gesture. Perhaps he could put it on his desk. He considers planning a thank you bouquet for Tiff as well, seeing as he's going to ask her for quite a large favour. If she says yes he'll definitely have to do something for her.

Once closing hour comes, Bud teaches Trencil how to count the cash and lock up, and they go their separate ways. At that point it's 6:30pm, so he starts walking home, texting Nat along the way to make sure she's eaten supper. When he gets back he'll have some calls to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamal's Bouquet:  
Peach roses - appreciation  
Yellow roses- joy and friendship  
White hibiscus - delicate beauty, worthiness  
Sweet woodruff - humility  
Chamomile - patience, energy in adversity
> 
> Other notes:  
Спасибо = "Thank you" in Russian


End file.
